Thump in the Night
by Kyriebess
Summary: Under a lot of stress, the brothers argue, causing a monster to attack. Hurt!Sam, protective/guilty!Dean. Originally published in The Brotherhood2 fanzine.
1. Chapter 1

_This story originally appeared in the Brotherhood2 fanzine, which, btw, was such an awesome book. I was so honored to be in the presence of such phenomenal writers. And now, months later, as we look toward the Brotherhood4 (keep an eye out for it), I am now posting this.   
_

_Special thanks to KHannaKorossy for editing this so carefully and spending so much time helping me clean this up._

_The story is set sometime during season 2 and will be posted in three parts.  
_

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**Thump in the Night: Chapter 1**

"Ah! Why don't you just hit _every_ pothole in the road, Sammy?"

Sam gripped the wheel tighter and ground his teeth together. Dean was injured; he had to remember that. However, in all fairness to himself, Dean had been grating on his last nerve all week…although it seemed the feeling was mutual. It had been a tough hunt, and the brothers hadn't agreed on much throughout. The problem was, they had been hunting a broxa, a large demonic bird that fed off the blood of farm animals. And unfortunately, the broxa could be eliminated more than one way. It was that fact, along with a year of high stress and spending all their time together, that had led to the two of them being at each other's throats.

The broxas were dead, and in the end it had been Sam's plan of treating the steers' coats with tea tree oil—poisonous to broxas—that had killed the giant birds off. However, that was not before one of them had picked Dean up off the ground by his arm and flew him around the area before dropping him, abruptly. Considering how high up Dean had been when he went down, Sam was surprised he hadn't been more hurt. His worst injury seemed to be a dislocated arm, which with Sam's help was quickly reduced. Other than that, Dean had just sustained a series of cuts and bruises. He'd be sore for a while…which certainly wasn't helping his attitude.

The car bounced as it rode over another pothole. "Ow! Seriously, Sam! Are you freaking_aiming_ for them?"

Sam grit his teeth and strained to see through the torrential downpour and high-speed windshield wipers. Taking a breath, he tried to speak calmly and slowly. "Dean…it's a dirt road…it's pouring…there are no lights…I can't see anything…you're lucky I'm staying _on_ the road…"

Dean winced as the car jolted again. "Dude, then let me drive. _I'm _not having a problem seeing through this."

Sam scoffed, "Oh, right. I forgot about your super-vision. You have super healing powers, too, Dean?"

Dean glared and carefully pushed himself up in the seat. "I couldn't do any worse than you…" Another pothole, and Dean became angry. "All right. That's it. You're doing it on purpose."

Sam briefly glanced over at his brother disbelievingly before bringing his eyes back to the rainy windshield. "Yeah, Dean, that's right. I'm doing this on purpose. I even went so far as to create the rain with the magical potion I keep in my back pocket, all so I can make your life a living hell. After all, that _is_ what I live for."

Dean squinted at his brother's sarcasm and pointed with his good arm. "Pull over. I'm driving."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean…"

Dean pointed again, deepening his voice. "Sam, I'm serious, man. Pull over. Now!"

Sam tightened his grip on the wheel and yelled back, "No!"

Furious, Dean stared his brother down, but Sam wouldn't give in. Taking a breath, he tried to reason with his injured sibling. "Dean, your arm needs to stay immobile. You're not driving."

With a scowl, Dean looked through the windshield, only to find a large flooded area twenty feet in front of the car. "Sam, stop!"

Reacting to the urgent tone of his brother's voice as opposed to the previous angry one, Sam hit the brakes. The car skidded on the muddy road before coming to a stop at the edge on the flood. For a moment, both boys stared at the large puddle in front of them.

Finally, Dean spoke. "Turn the car around. We'll find another road."

Sam looked over at his brother. "This is the only road out of here, man. Unless you want to go north across the cliffside road, which would be suicide in this weather."

Dean thought for a moment. Sam was right, the cliffside road would be too dangerous to drive in the rain, but they couldn't drive through the flood, either. Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his exhausted face. "Fine, uh, just pull the car over and we'll sleep in here."

Willing himself to have patience, Sam shook his head. "Dean, you need to lie flat for your arm. You can't do that in the car."

Dean growled, his anger at his brother returning. "Dude, it's a dislocated arm, not a broken back. You already set it for me—it'll make it through a night in the car."

Sam disagreed, "Dean…if you sleep in the car, your muscles will cramp up and you'll be in serious pain."

Dean grit his teeth. "I already _am_ in serious pain, and that was before you decided to drive through every single pothole and make the ride as bumpy as it could possibly be."

Sam had had enough. He slammed his hand down on the wheel. "What is it, man?! What the hell is your problem lately?!"

Dean looked offended. "Me?! Dude, I'm not the one who has to argue with every freakin' suggestion. I'm not the one who had to do everything _his_ way."

Sam raised his eyebrows as he laughed in disbelief. "You're not? Huh. Funny. 'Cause that's _exactly_ how I would describe you."

Dean turned to make his way out the door. "All right. You know what?"

Seeing that his brother was about to leave the car, Sam slammed his foot down on the accelerator, speeding them through the flooded road. The car made it through the water, and Sam continued on down the wet path, over the potholes and through the mud at an unnecessarily fast speed. The silence that filled the car in the wake of Sam's defiance was deafening.

It was three minutes and one extraordinarily large bump in the road before the silence was broken by a voice so calm, it had passed the edge of fury. "Slow the hell down before you kill us, Sammy."

Sam didn't respond but began easing his foot off the accelerator. Now that his anger and moment of rebellion had passed, he was beginning to feel a little worried. He honestly had no idea what Dean would do; he had never actively defied an actual order from Dean before. His dad, sure, but Dean? But then, Dean had never been so stubborn and insistent on having everything _his_ way as he had over the past week. Okay, so it _was_ technically Dean's car. But Sam lived in it just as much as Dean did. Sam paid for the gas just as much as Dean did. So the title belonged to Dean, but for right now, Sam was driving and, therefore, as the driver, he should be the one to make the decisions about where they would go.

The silence continued as the brothers maneuvered along the dark, wet road and back into civilization. As he drove, many thoughts ran through Sam's head, not the least of which was wondering what Dean was going to do to him, and what he could possibly say to appease his brother. Unfortunately, the answers to both questions seemed unreachable and, as time went on, Sam's anxiety began to grow. Briefly, he flicked his eyes over to his brother. Dean sat slouched in his seat, his back turned to Sam. It was obvious from the little of Dean's face that Sam could see that his brother was still furious.

Then, to drive the nail in the coffin, a low rumbling sound began vibrating the car. From Sam's position, it appeared the rumbling was originating from somewhere in the front underside of the car. Clearly, the trip through the flood had not left the car undamaged; water had gotten into the engine. At least it wasn't flooded…

Wincing at the sound that had sealed his fate, Sam turned his eyes to his brother. No longer facing away from Sam, Dean now sat looking out the front window. His face was tight, his arms were crossed—as best they could be—his nostrils flaring with each breath. And to top it all off, Dean was grinding his jaw. Sam winced again and brought his eyes back to the road…and the rumbling grew louder.

They were in a town now, and Sam turned off the dirt and onto the paved main street. A row of quaint shops and stores surrounded them, and about a half-mile ahead was an illuminated sign that read: "Wake Ready Motel: Vacancy." Sam sighed as he stopped at the one stoplight that separated him from his destination.

At the stoplight, the rumbling turned into a banging, and Sam watched his brother's knuckles turn white as Dean gripped the doorframe in anger. Unable to take the silence any longer, Sam spoke. "I'm sorry."

Dean's body tensed at the sound of his brother's voice, and Sam watched as Dean's eyes flicked over at him. The rest of Dean's body seemed frozen. The light changed and Sam began driving.

Sam parked the now violently vibrating car in the motel parking lot, before cautiously turning to his brother. "I'll get the room."

Dean continued to look forward, still grinding his jaw, but this time he spoke. "Two."

Sam shook his head, confused. "What?"

Dean clarified, "Two rooms."

Sam took a deep breath. This wasn't fun. It was one thing for them to be throwing insults back and forth, arguing, even wrestling, but _this_, the silent treatment? Sam couldn't ever remember a time when Dean had been so infuriated with him that he had stopped speaking to him…and to waste the money on two rooms? Not to mention the fact Dean was injured and Sam had a hard time leaving him alone, even if it was just a dislocated arm… "Dean…"

Upon hearing Sam's voice, Dean opened the car door, slamming it behind him as he exited. Then he leaned up against the car, in the rain, his back to his brother. Sam sighed and left to get the rooms.

He returned a short time later, two keys in hand. Walking over to his brother, Sam handed Dean one of the key cards. "You're in 108. I'm 109."

Dean gave a curt nod, refusing to make eye contact. Moving the key card to his other hand, Dean once again held out his hand. Sam looked at it, puzzled, and Dean explained. "The car keys."

Wincing like a child getting his toy taken away for not being responsible, Sam handed his brother the keys. Dean accepted them without a word, picked up his bag, and walked over to his room. After getting his own bag, Sam made his way to the adjoining room. Not ten minutes later, both boys were asleep.

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He couldn't catch his breath; he was trapped. Trapped in the Impala and running out of air. He had no idea how long he'd been there—he had no memory of that—but obviously it had been a while. Briefly, Sam wondered if this was the car's revenge. He had destroyed the engine, the heart of the car, really, and, in return, the car was stealing his oxygen.

Sam tried to suck in a breath, only to come up short of air. His body shook as he began coughing, desperate to get air into his lungs. Knowing he had to get out of the car to live, Sam tried to open the door. Unfortunately, it seemed he couldn't grab the door handle. Every time he made an attempt, he ended up grabbing the window crank instead. Coughing more, Sam rallied his strength and tried again. Looking at the handle, Sam reached down and grabbed it. When he looked again, it was the window crank. He growled in frustration.

It was nearly impossible to take in any air now, and his lungs clenched as they tried to breathe in the vacuum. Then, from somewhere in the car, Sam heard a thump. A vague hope filled him as he thought Dean might be trying to break in to help, but as Sam looked around, he realized that was not the case. He shook his head, coughing. Of course it wasn't the case. Dean had been furious with him. If the car were trying to kill him, Dean would probably be cheering it on.

The thumping grew louder and brought with it an awareness that he was asleep. With a jolt, Sam opened his eyes…and found himself face-to-face with a monster.

Immediately recognizing the creature, Sam pulled the covers over his head as he desperately tried to catch his breath. Well, that explained the suffocation in the dream. The monster was a bugaboo, a seven-foot tall, skinny blue creature with red eyes and an oblong head. In a way, bugaboos resembled stretched-out humans. Their jaws were set like piranhas, with two rows of razor-sharp teeth that were fully exposed, having no lips to cover them. Their noses were also non-existent; their nostrils were simply two holes in the middle of their face. Two holes that sucked the breath from young children, killing them as they slept.

Sam closed his eyes as he willed his lungs to loosen up and allow him to breathe. Bugaboos were easy creatures to destroy, no fancy ammo or weapons needed. Anything that would kill a human would kill a bugaboo; in addition, they died instantly when exposed to light. They lived under beds or in closets, and, fortunately, couldn't break through the safety of blankets.

Sam coughed again, still having difficulty breathing and wondered…bugaboos never preyed on adults. They only went after children. For that matter, they only attacked children if the child was alone. If there was another child in the room, they typically wouldn't come out. So why was this one going after Sam?

Perhaps being in a motel room, the creature hadn't had much access to children and at this point would take what it could get. Unfortunately for this particular bugaboo, it had chosen a hunter to prey on. Sam kept coughing and heard a thump…the same one from his dream. It was Dean banging on the wall to tell him to "shut up." Apparently, Sam's coughing was disturbing his brother's sleep. While Dean's banging had ultimately saved his life by waking him up, Sam couldn't help think it would have been more helpful if Dean had gotten up off his ass to find out _why_ Sam was coughing before telling him to shut up.

Thoughts of Dean aside, Sam moved to grab the knife from under his pillow so he could kill the annoying creature that had been stealing his breath. He slid his left hand up between the sheet and the blanket…and stopped, confused, when his hand ran into a smooth, cool object.

Still under the covers, Sam opened his eyes and turned his head toward the object, only to find himself face-to-face with the large white eyes of the bugaboo. It was under the covers with him, its face only inches from his own. Immediately, Sam gasped, then watched as his breath was literally sucked from his lungs, into the creature's face.

Gasping and coughing, Sam quickly rolled away from the creature and fell out of bed, twisted in the blankets. He was tangled and starving for oxygen…and running purely on instinct. Not even sure if his eyes were open, Sam fought the dizziness caused by a lack of oxygen and grabbed the knife from under his pillow. Kicking off the last of the blankets, Sam turned back toward the bed and poised for attack.

Now _standing_ on the bed, the creature looked down at Sam and his knife. With the added height of the bed, the creature literally towered over Sam, having to bend in half to fit under the ceiling. Given that the creature's vital organs were above his head, Sam made a dash toward the door instead, in hopes of drawing the creature off the bed.

The plan worked. With the same speed as Sam, the monster followed its prey to the other side of the room. The bugaboo and the human faced off for a second time, although this time they could see almost eye-to-eye. Sam breathed, and once again his breath was sucked from his lungs. Coughing, and ignoring the banging on the wall, Sam thrust his knife into the creature's chest.

Being stabbed in the chest should have killed the monster, so Sam was shocked when not only did it not die, but instead took the opportunity to use its razor sharp claws to strike at Sam's midsection. An explosion of pain hit where the creature's claws met their mark. Sam clutched his stomach and doubled over as he tried to kick the beast away.

Realizing the knife in the chest hadn't accomplished anything, Sam moved on to Plan B. The creature took a swipe at Sam's shoulder, still sucking the breath from its prey, as Sam reached behind him and flicked on the light.

Instantly, the creature disappeared. At least _that_ bugaboo rule still applied.

The beast wasn't dead; Sam knew that. These monsters moved fast, and this particular one had managed to find its way back under Sam's bed before the light could hit. Breathing heavily, coughing and clutching an arm across his sliced torso, Sam watched as the creature's eyes slowly faded into the darkness that remained under the bed. Once the eyes were gone, Sam slowly slid his way down the wall.

His shoulder was bleeding, his abdomen was bleeding, and he couldn't catch his breath. Sam coughed, wincing in pain as the motion set fire to the pain in his midsection.

Another thump pounded against the wall. A brief flicker of anger flared through Sam in response to being "thumped" at, but that anger was quickly replaced with an overwhelming need for help. Not only was he bleeding and injured…and unable to breathe…but he also had no freakin' clue as to what was going on. Why hadn't the bugaboo died? Why was it able to get under the covers? Why did it attack with its claws?

There were too many questions, and Sam didn't have any of the answers. He needed his brother's help. Dean was going to have to put his anger aside for the moment. Sam winced. Dean had been truly pissed at him, probably more pissed than Sam could ever remember him being. There was a good possibility his brother wouldn't come help him; in response to Sam's coughing, Dean had only banged on the wall. With a sigh, Sam moved to get up, only to fall back again in pain and begin another coughing fit. This time two thumps sounded on the wall, and Sam glared at it in frustration.

Sucking in as much breath as he could muster, Sam yelled, "Dean!"

It came out mostly as a cough and was followed by another fit, but Sam was pretty sure the name had been somewhat coherent. Hearing no response from the other side of the wall, Sam rallied another breath and tried again.

"Dean!"

This time there was a noise, followed by loud, banging footsteps from the other room. Still coughing, Sam closed his eyes in relief. Dean was coming.

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_The story's already done, but I'd still love to know what you think. Please leave a review and let me know!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow! I can't believe the amazing response I received from the first chapter. Thank you all so much for your unbelievable support. It really lifts my spirits- you don't even know. I savor each and every review. Thank you._

_**Blu-bell: **__Hi! Actually, the bugaboo is a well-known "under the bed" creature, so I didn't name it myself. I think the name/creature was originally the same as the boogyman, but then over time they developed into slightly different monsters. But I'm glad you're likin' it!  
**Lol: **__No, no "full-stop" there's still chapters 2 and 3 to be added. :)  
**Lynns: **__Thanks! Glad you're enjoying! Here's some more!  
**Fiona:**__ I'm guessing it's you based on the message as there was no signature with it, so I apologize if it's someone else. Either way, thanks so much for all the compliments! I'm glad you like the various creatures.  
**Dfghk: **__Okay, okay! Here you go:)  
**Spuffyshipper: **Lol...I'm glad Sam's terror pleases you!. I'd imagine Dean can be quite intimidating when he's mad!_  
_**Caitlin: **__Aw, thank you. I'm glad you like it and see? You don't have to wait anymore for chapter 2 to appear. Here it is!_

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**Thump in the Night: Chapter 2**

Dean was pissed…and it wasn't just about the car, although Sam had definitely crossed a line with that one. No, Dean had been pissed at his brother for pretty much the entire week now. The car was merely the last straw.

It had started with Sam's neverending bitching about Dean's music, moved on to the way Dean drove, then continued from there. As far as he could remember, Sam had been bitching about _something_ non-stop for the whole week. What had really set them at each other's throats, though, was the broxa hunt. Sam had been for the hunt and Dean had been against it. Not that he didn't want to hunt, it was just that those creatures were only killing cattle and, frankly, Dean couldn't see why they should waste their time hunting a broxa when they had let Lenore and company go for the same offense. Sam, ironically, had been arguing _for_ the hunt, stating that the difference between the vampires and the broxas was that the vampires fed off _different_ farmers' cattle each time; the broxas stayed on the same farm until that farmer lost his entire herd. And Sam wanted to save the farmer's family…naturally.

So that was the first real fight, which Dean had lost, and which led to the second fight: how to kill the creatures. Broxas were easy kills; an herbal poison or any kind of violence would do it. Sam had wanted to treat all 200 head of cattle with the poison, saying it would be safer. Dean didn't want to waste the time coating 200 steers with tea tree oil, nor did he want to waste the money buying all that tea tree oil. He just wanted to wait and shoot the damn things. Dean had originally won _that_ argument, until his unfortunate meeting with the ground, which led to the car, which led to his current state of fury. In the end, though, it came down to one thing: Sam was a major pain in the ass and was _seriously_ getting on his nerves. And the car? Dean shook his head. It'd be a long time before he'd be speaking to Sam again. The bastard freakin' _broke _the Impala.

And now he was coughing…loudly. Dean whined and threw his pillow over his head. His shoulder was killing him, and all he wanted to do was sleep. He wasn't even in the same _room_ as Sam, for Pete's sake. More coughing, and Dean banged on the wall two more times. Sam hadn't been coughing at all earlier. Dean was halfway sure this was just another way for Sam to piss him off. He just wanted to sleep…and then Sam called his name.

That was it. Dean threw the pillow off his head and across the room in anger. "You gotta be freakin' kidding me!"

Getting up quickly, Dean made his way to the door that connected his room to his brother's. He had no idea why Sam had yelled his name. It might have been in response to the banging, or maybe he just wanted to hash it out. Dean raised his brows. That was fine. It didn't matter that Dean's shoulder was injured; Sam wanted a fight? He was gonna get one.

Dean threw open the door to his brother's room, immediately squinting at the light. So Sam was wide awake then. Figured. Once he was able to fully open his eyes, Dean glared over at his brother's bed. It was empty. Then he looked over at the small table and chairs…also empty.

Hearing another cough, Dean turned toward the room's main door and looked down. There, sitting on the floor against the wall, was Sam.

Suddenly, everything stopped. Something was seriously wrong.

Sam's eyes were closed and he looked as though he was struggling to breathe. His right arm was folded across his stomach, and even from the other side of the room, Dean could see the blood staining Sam's shirt. There was a smear of blood down the wall behind him, and Dean knew from looking at it that some part of his brother's back was also injured.

Dean hurried to his brother, crouching in front of him. He didn't speak but gently took Sam's arm, trying to move it away from the injury. Sam held his arm in place, but from behind it Dean could see the gash across his brother's middle. Dean's breath caught in his throat. The demon had gotten Sammy. That's what had happened to Jessica and their mother: a slash across the abdomen. Somehow Sam had avoided being burned on the ceiling, but nevertheless…

Dean struggled against hyperventilating. How the hell could he have left Sam alone? There was a freakin' _demon_ after him, and Dean had left him alone._Watch out for Sammy_; some job he'd done. Sam was being attacked, and there Dean was in another room, banging on the wall, annoyed with the noise.

Shaking away the guilt in order to focus on Sam, Dean pulled again at his brother's arm. Once again, the arm didn't move. Now that he was touching Sam, Dean was able to feel his brother's rib cage cave as he struggled to pull in each breath. Dean looked up at Sam's face, noting the blue tinge around his lips. Sam's breathing was considerably labored, and Dean felt his alarm grow; this was so not good.

Quickly, Dean did a visual sweep of the room to be sure whatever had attacked his brother was gone. He sighed in relief when he found nothing there. Turning back to Sam, Dean touched his brother's arm, speaking in a whisper. "Sammy? Come on, bro, move your arm. I need to see it."

Sam opened his pain-filled eyes and allowed Dean to move his arm out of the way. Dean winced at the gash in the bloody t-shirt. Carefully, he began to roll his brother's shirt up to get a better look at the injury. Dean gently probed the area, listening to Sam's soft gasps intermixed with his labored breathing.

Dean grimaced. The wound was deep and badly bleeding; it would need stitches. Thankfully, though, the gash hadn't been deep enough to cut all the way through the muscle. Dean let out a long breath in relief. When he had finished examining the slice, he rolled Sam's shirt back down and looked up.

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Sam stared at his brother as he tried to calm himself in order to get his breathing under control. Dean's presence in itself was incredibly calming, which was odd considering only a few hours before, that same presence had caused Sam a great amount of stress and annoyance. He took in a deeper breath, triggering a cough, then winced at the pull on his abdomen. Dean was being incredibly gentle, again odd because Sam was fairly sure Dean had planned on killing him when he walked in the door. Sam took another deep breath, this time without the cough, as Dean met his eyes. Sam relaxed further; there was no anger in his brother's eyes…at least not at the moment. Dean looked guilty, and worried, and something else. Scared? The first two Sam had somewhat expected, as Dean often exhibited those expressions—too often—but the third? Why was Dean scared?

"Sammy…was it the demon?"

Oh. Sam widened his eyes and immediately shook his head. "No. No." Well, that explained Dean's fear…and looking down at himself, Sam could see how Dean had jumped to that conclusion. Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. This was embarrassing. Here Dean thought he had been attacked by _the_ demon, which would have made sense considering his condition, but no. No, Sam had been attacked by a bugaboo. A creature that often attacked, and was sometimes killed by, _children_. Dean was never going to let him live this one down. Sam shook his head. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if when Dean heard what it was, he made some degrading comment and returned to his room and bed.

Sam's thoughts of humiliation were interrupted as he felt his brother lean him forward to take a look at his shoulder. Once again, Dean was gentle as he probed the area. By that time, thankfully, Sam was breathing semi-normally again. He still couldn't use his lungs to their capacity, wouldn't for a while, but at least he wasn't continuously coughing anymore. Finally, Dean pushed Sam back and once again crouched in front of him.

"Sam? What happened?"

Dean's voice was just as soothing as his touch, and Sam opened his eyes, dreading the embarrassment of the moment. He cringed before he spoke. "There's a bugaboo under my bed." God, he sounded like a five-year-old.

Dean immediately shook his head, confused. "A _bugaboo_ did this? Dude, that doesn't make sense."

Sam shut his eyes in shame and nodded. "I know, man. But that's what it was. I saw it."

Dean looked around, shook his head again, then pushed on his brother's good shoulder, causing Sam to open his eyes. "Sam, bugaboos don't attack adults…and they definitely don't cut people up. Whatever did this, it was _not_ a bugaboo."

Sam rolled his eyes. Did Dean have to argue with him about _everything_? He had seen the freakin' thing. Sam looked at his brother, somewhat annoyed. "Dean. I'm telling you—"

But Dean cut him off. "Sam, I'm not saying you didn't see something that looked like one, but I know my monsters, man…and bugaboos don't do that." Dean pointed at Sam's injuries before continuing, "The only way they attack is by sucking the air out of kids while they sleep."

Suddenly, Dean's face took on a shocked expression as he turned to his brother. "Dude…is that why you were coughing?"

Sam nodded.

Dean sat back, a guilt-ridden look on his face. "God, Sam. I'm sorry, man. I didn't—"

Sam shook his head and put up a hand, interrupting his brother. "Dean, don't. How would you know? I mean, there'd be no reason to assume a _bugaboo_ was feeding off me. Like you said, they usually only go after kids."

Dean looked down, jaw shifting, not at all consoled by Sam's explanation.

Taking pity on his brother, Sam tried again. "Even with your being annoying and pissed, you still managed to save my life." Dean looked confused, and Sam smiled, "Your banging woke me up. I would've died in my sleep if you hadn't been such a dick."

Dean smirked and nodded. "Nice, man. Glad I could help." Dean moved to help his brother up, "Come on, let's get you stitched."

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Sam sighed and allowed Dean to pull him up. Once standing, Sam swayed and immediately leaned into his brother. Dean stood, holding on until Sam's dizziness passed. Then he led his brother to the bathroom. Once there, he took Sam's shirt off and began cleansing and stitching the wounds. Thankfully, the injuries weren't life-threatening. Both slash marks were incredibly painful, having cut through muscle, but Sam would survive. Dean grimaced as he pulled the last stitch through on his brother's abdomen; Sam had been very lucky. This could have been so much worse.

Sam spoke as Dean moved to his back. "Dean…thanks for coming over, man. You know, to help me."

Dean gave a short laugh and rolled his eyes. "Actually, I was coming over to kick your ass, but you're welcome."

Sam smiled, pausing before speaking again. "That bugaboo didn't play by the rules."

Dean rolled his eyes, focused on the stitching, "'Cause it wasn't a bugaboo."

Sam, looking annoyed, turned his head to look at his brother. "Then what was it?"

Dean, annoyed himself, pushed Sam's head back to looking straight ahead before answering, "I don't know, Sam. I wasn't here."

Sam turned his head back. "Right, exactly. So then—"

Dean interrupted, forcefully adjusting Sam's head forward again. "Unless you want a giant scar across your back, keep your freakin' head still."

Sam glowered before turning the conversation back to the monster at hand. "I stabbed it…it didn't die…didn't even seem hurt."

Dean nodded. "Immune to mortal wounds—what else?"

Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly seeming exhausted. "Uh, it could go under the covers…"

Dean nodded again. "What color was it?"

Sam shook his head. "I thought it was blue, but I'm not really sure. It was definitely a dark color."

Dean pulled the last stitch through before tying it off. Then, he paused as he remembered something he'd said—and clearly shouldn't have—to himself when he'd been alone in his room. Dean's face lost its color. It couldn't be… He spoke slowly. "Sam…were the eyes red?"

Sam looked confused as he searched his memory and then shook his head slowly in surprise. "No…they were white."

That answer caused Dean to sigh and take a step back. He looked down at his brother with a troubled look on his face.

Sam saw the look and grew visibly nervous. "What?"

Dean bit his lip, unhappy to say what he was thinking. He had inadvertently brought this on his brother…

Sam prompted him again. "Dean, what? What is it?"

Dean took a deep breath before answering, "A xoxan."

Sam's eyes grew wide and he sat back, clearly shocked. Really though, it made perfect sense. Xoxans were relatives of bugaboos, another species of the "monster under the bed" family. Bugaboos and xoxans looked alike except for minor differences of skin and eye color, and both sucked the air from humans as they slept. Xoxans, however, preyed on adults as well as children, and could become physically violent. In addition, they could go through material, such as blankets, to get to their victims, whereas bugaboos could not.

There was one more fact about xoxans, though, that had Dean particularly disturbed: Xoxans only went after humans who had been "bad" toward a member of the family, such as a child who had been particularly disrespectful and disobedient to his parents.

Dean watched as his brother's face went from startled to angry. Obviously, Sam remembered that fact, too. Sam looked up, pissed. "You sicced a xoxan on me?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Give me a break, Sam. I didn't _sic_ anything on you. Xoxans search for guilt. And you _should_ feel freakin' guilty considering what you did to the Impala."

Sam shook his head and stood up angrily. "Guilt _and_ blame; they both have to be present for the attack." Dean gave no response, and Sam spoke again, "Admit it, Dean. You did this to get me back for the car."

Dean threw up his hands. "Dude…you know I didn't."

Sam raised his eyebrows in challenge. "Then how did it get here?"

Dean gestured defensively. "I don't know, man. Maybe it was already hanging around here…but I didn't sic _anything_ on you." It was true. Dean had said some things he probably shouldn't have—things that, if a xoxan was around and Sam was truly guilty, would send the thing into kill mode—but he hadn't actually summoned one. There were specific words for that, and Dean _knew_ he hadn't said_those_. He would _never_ have said _those_. Still, clearly, he had said more than he should have in his anger. But then, maybe Sam shouldn't have gone out of his way to piss him off so much this week.

For a moment, the brothers stood, glaring at each other, then Dean spoke again.

"Although, I gotta say, you _have_ been a real pain in the ass lately."

Sam stuck out his lower jaw in anger and nodded slowly. "Nice. Thanks. 'Cause _you've_ been such a joy to be around."

Dean nodded back. "Fine. I come in here to help you and this is what I get? You_ broke_ the freakin' car, Sam, and don't give me that shit that it was an accident. You did it because you were pissed at me and you were trying to piss me off."

Sam's face grew red, "You didn't come in here to help me. And I wasn't trying to break the car. You needed to lie down in a bed. I drove through the flood because I was worried about you, not to get back at you."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Then how come the xoxan's here? They don't go after people who've made mistakes. They go after people who deliberately hurt a family member."

Sam seethed, "Dean, for the last time, I did _not_ deliberately try to hurt you."

"Bullshit. You wanted to piss me off? Well, you got what you wanted."

Dean walked out of the bathroom and Sam called out after him, "What the hell do you want from me then, Dean? I said I was sorry, I screwed up—it went further than I meant for it to go. You gonna stay pissed at me forever?"

Dean called back, "It wasn't just the car, Sam. You've been acting like a dick all week."

Sam shook his head. "Fine, you know what? Why don't you just go back to your room? I'll handle this myself."

Dean turned toward his brother to hand Sam a nasty comment. But before he could, Sam gave a startled yell. Within a blink, his head and one shoulder had disappeared into the bathroom mirror.

Dean stood in shock, not comprehending what he was seeing. But after a second, Dean's brain caught up, and he ran forward to grab his brother.

Wrapping one hand around Sam's waist, mindful of the injury, and the other around Sam's free shoulder, Dean pulled. His shoulder screamed in agony as the ruptured ligaments and lax tendons stretched beyond their injured limits. Dean had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out.

Pushing his own pain aside, Dean concentrated his energy on holding onto his brother. Apparently, whatever was attacking wanted Sam in the mirror as much as Dean wanted him out. Sam's left hand was flat against the wall, and Dean could see his brother's muscles flexing in an attempt to push himself out of the mirror, as well. Unfortunately, neither Dean nor Sam seemed to be able to fight the suction. Bracing his foot against the sink, Dean used his leg to add force to his pull, but still the mirror would not release its hold.

Adjusting his grip, Dean looked up at the mirror. It looked just as solid as before, and had part of Sam's body not been sticking out from it, Dean would've sworn it was solid glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother's hand begin to slip from the wall. Then, within Dean's hold, Sam's body started losing tone, sagging forward toward the sink. Sam was losing consciousness.

Dean gripped his brother's body tighter. "All right. Enough fooling around."

Without letting go, Dean desperately looked around for something he could use to smash the mirror. Filled with determination—Sam would _not_ be dying at the hands of a xoxan—Dean grabbed the plastic tissue box holder and slammed it into the mirror.

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_So there was chapter 2. Only one more chapter to go! Please leave me some feedback- I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Thanks!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you all for your supportive reviews! I appreciate each and every one so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

_**Lol: **__Thanks for the dance! Hopefully you'll like this too!  
**Spuffyshipper: **__That sounds like a great plot! You should write it up. I'd love to read it!  
**Alice: **__Yes you were the 100__th__ review! Congrats! Here's the last chapter, so now you'll know what happened!  
**Lynns: **__Thanks! You'll just have to read some more to see if the boys make up…  
**Anne: **__I agree, protective!Dean is adorable. Then again, any Dean is adorable! Thanks for the review!  
**Amy: **__Yeah, the boys need to get back in sync and over themselves. Hopefully they'll pull it together before Sam ends up as xoxan food!_

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**Thump in the Night: Chapter 3**

The glass shattered and Sam fell back. His eyes on the mirror, Dean briefly caught a glimpse of the evil purple face that was stalking his sibling before it vanished into the mirror's remains. Dean winced and grunted as Sam's weight pushed him into the far wall and down to the floor.

Without wasting any time, Dean scrambled his way out from under his brother in order to assess Sam's condition. Sam was pale, his eyes fluttering as he tried desperately to hang on to consciousness. Once again, he was gasping for breath, and there was a gash in his neck that was seeping blood. Thankfully, though, the cut, although long, wasn't deep and wouldn't need stitches.

Ignoring the shards of glass that surrounded them, Dean pulled his slumped brother up so that Sam was comfortably leaning against the wall. Then, taking Sam's face in one of his hands, Dean tried to help his brother back to full consciousness. "Sammy?"

Sam moaned and turned his head in the direction of his brother's voice.

Taking a deep breath, Dean tried again, "Sam…come on, dude, show me your eyes…"

Sam's eyelids began to flutter faster, and his right hand came up to clench itself around Dean's arm. Briefly, Dean looked down at the hand, finding it badly cut. He let out a low whistle. "Man, that thing really did a number on you…" He released Sam's face and patted his chest. "Don't worry, Sammy, we'll fix the hand, too."

Sam coughed and slowly opened his eyes. They were glassy and confused, but at least Sam seemed to be coming back to awareness.

Dean brought his hand to Sam's shoulder to steady him. "Sam? You with me?"

Sam blinked hard and then met his brother's eyes.

Considerably relieved, Dean sat back and smiled. "I gotta say, that's a new one."

Sam, still a little out of it, brought a hand to the gash on his neck and slowly looked around. He spoke sluggishly, the words disjointed. "Uh, what, Dean?"

Dean shook his head at his brother's difficulty getting the words out. "The little trip you took into the mirror there. Way to 'handle things yourself,' Sam."

Dean watched Sam look up at where the mirror had once been mounted before turning his eyes back to Dean. Dean's smiled faded as he saw the fear in Sam's eyes. "Dean, we need to talk."

With a sigh, Dean met his brother's gaze and nodded. "Yeah."

There was a moment of awkward silence before he spoke again. He gripped Sam's shoulder harder as he spoke. "Sammy, I was pissed at you…and, yeah, I was bitching about you in my room, but I never meant to put this thing on you. I wouldn't mess around with shit like this."

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head, a small smile on his face. "I know that, man." He looked up at Dean. "I know you'd never purposely sic a xoxan on me." Dean nodded, and Sam continued, "Hey, Dean?" Sam waited until he had his brother's attention. "I really am sorry about the car. I'll pay for the damages…and I'm sorry about all week."

Dean shook his head, cutting his brother off. "We've both been acting like asses this week…and damn straight you'll pay for the car."

Sam laughed, then winced at the pull on his neck.

Upon seeing the action, Dean lifted his brother up and sat him back on the toilet. "There's a pretty bad cut on your neck and another one on your hand."

For the first time, Sam looked down at his own hand and cringed. Then, as Dean began cleaning his neck, he thought of Dean's own injury. "How's your shoulder?"

Dean shrugged. "It sucks. Be honest, it'd feel a lot better if I was lying flat."

Sam laughed. "Told you."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, you're right. This's worked out so much better than sleeping in the car."

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Sam's face reddened with embarrassment. How was he supposed to know there'd be a xoxan at the motel? "It wasn't all to get you back…I really _was_worried about you."

Dean rolled his eyes as he finished taping Sam's neck. "Aw, it's so nice to know you care."

Sam grinned and pushed his brother away as Dean chuckled at his own sarcasm. "Asshole."

Dean laughed harder and lifted Sam's hand to begin treating it. Sam made an attempt to pull it back. "I can get that, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "I already got it. It'd be hard for you to clean it with your left hand, anyway."

Sam began chewing the nail of his left hand as his brother worked on his right. "Dean? Thanks…for sticking around."

Dean rolled his eyes, keeping them focused on his task. "I was pissed at you, Sam. Doesn't mean I'm gonna sit on my ass while something attacks you."

Sam smiled up at his brother, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Thanks." Then Sam smiled more widely. "You really were pissed. You sure you're not the type to sic a xoxan on your annoying little brother?"

Dean smirked and shook his head, "Nah, man, xoxans aren't really my style. Although once, when you were three and being particularly obnoxious, I came close to summoning the goblin king…"

Sam nodded in annoyance. "Nice, Dean."

Dean looked over at him. "Hey. They don't kill, just shove you in a sack and bring you to the goblin world."

Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. "Where I would've become a _goblin_."

Dean shrugged as he finished putting the bandage on his brother's hand. "There's a 24-hour window. I would've saved you…"

Sam took his hand back and stood up. "You _should've _saved me. You would've been the one to send me there…" Sam paused, searching his memories, then eyed his brother suspiciously, "You didn't send me there, right? I mean…you stopped yourself before you finished summoning the goblin king, right?"

Dean shot his brother a knowing smile, patted Sam's arm, and walked out of the bathroom without responding.

Behind him, Sam stood still, too absorbed in his memories to move. As far as he could tell, he had no recollection of a goblin world, but then, he would only have been three…

Dean's voice interrupted. "I wouldn't stand in there too long if I were you, Sam. It can find a way to get you if you're alone in a room."

Immediately, Sam took a quick look around the bathroom before jumping into the main room with his brother. Now safe from the xoxan's reach, Sam turned to his brother. "That's why it could get me in the mirror, because you were out of the room."

Dean nodded. "Mirrors are entryways to other worlds. The Xoxan can only enter and exit _our_ world through under the bed, but it'd be able to get your scrawny ass into _it's_ world through anything reflective…water, too."

Sam grimaced. "Great…" Then he sighed, "…uh, so the only way to kill them is one minute in light. How do we manage to keep it exposed that long?"

Dean took a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. "Uh, I know a way…but I don't like it."

Sam rolled his eyes and carefully sat on the bed, trying not to aggravate his wounded belly. "Why? What is it?"

Dean shook his head and looked at the floor as he spoke. "Well, we'd have to draw it out and then flip the bed over. It can't get back to its world if the bed's not down."

Sam sighed, considering Dean's plan. "That sounds doable. Only question is, how do we draw it out? I mean, it probably won't come out here if you're around or if I'm awake…and if I'm asleep and you're not here, I wouldn't know when it started attacking."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, why I said I didn't like it."

For several minutes, the brothers sat in silence, each trying to think up a better plan. Finally, after coming up with nothing, Sam spoke up. "You think you could flip the bed over? I mean, with your injury?"

Dean attempted to roll his shoulder and winced at the pain. "Dunno. Maybe. Why? You think of another way to get it out?"

Sam said nothing but stood up from the bed. "Can you flip it with one arm?"

Looking questioningly at his brother, Dean moved forward and bent down to try it. With a grunt, Dean had the bed on its side.

Sam crossed his arms in approval. "I guess so." Then he helped his brother flip the bed back down before Dean turned to question him.

"Okay. What's up? Clearly you have some kind of plan rolling around in that freaky head of yours."

Sam chewed on a nail and made a face before answering his brother. Dean wasn't going to like it…

"Sam, come on, man. How can I tell you the idea sucks if you don't tell me what it is?"

Sam gave a short laugh, rolled his eyes, and cleared his throat. "Uh…well…" He gave his brother an apologetic look. "I cough, right?"

Dean looked confused. "Huh?"

Sam bit his lip and tried again. "I can sleep in here, you keep your head to the door, and once the xoxan starts attacking me, I'll start coughing. Then you just bang on the wall 'til I'm awake, I'll lead it away from the bed, give you a signal, and then you can come in, flip the bed over, we'll turn on the light, and bye-bye, xoxan…"

Dean, who had started shaking his head at "you keep your head to the door," immediately nixed the idea. "No. No way, Sam."

Sam held out his hands, pleading with his brother, "Dean, come on, man. You said it yourself, there's no other way."

Dean crossed his arms and shook his head again. "Sam…no. We'll do some research—there's a way to call these things off. We just have to find what the phrase is and I'll say it."

Understanding Dean's reluctance to go through with the plan, Sam rationalized calmly. "Then the xoxan'll just leave me and go after someone else. We have to kill it, Dean."

Dean threw his hands up. "What is it with you lately, Sam? What's with your need to kill every supernatural thing we run into? You know, sometimes we should just be happy with surviving. No need to go _looking_ for trouble. We've got enough of that shit as it is."

Sam took a breath and tried to avoid rehashing the fight they'd been having all week. "Dean, this is a _xoxan_. We can kill this. It's what we_do_. This is an easy one for us—"

Dean nodded, cutting his brother off. "If it was stalking someone else, I'd agree with you. But the plan here is to leave you alone and defenseless in a room with a deadly creature that's aiming to kill you. Dude, you can't ask me to do that."

Sam sat down on the bed. "We don't have a choice." He sent his brother an understanding look. "We can't just let it go, Dean."

Dean sighed and stared at the floor. He clearly had a hard time agreeing to the plan, but Sam was right, the xoxan was deadly, and there really was no other option; they couldn't just let it go.

As Dean considered the plan, Sam spoke again. "I trust you, man. Even if you're not in the same room as me, you'll know when it's here. Hell, Dean, you managed to wake me up when you didn't even know it was attacking. With you listening for it, you'll wake me before it gets a chance to do any damage."

Dean shook his head, eyes still on the carpet. Finally, after a few more moments of silence, he looked up, a resigned look on his face. "Okay. But I hear anything I don't like, I'm coming in, Sam. I mean, you stabbed the thing—for all the hell we know, it may be past sucking your breath and moving on to killing you in your sleep."

Sam smiled and shook his head. "I don't think so. Even in the mirror, it was still trying to suck my breath. It only slashed me when I tried to fight back."

Dean nodded. "Okay." Then he looked around. "I guess I'll go back to my room then…"

Sam smiled, trying to send reassuring vibes to his brother. "It'll be fine, Dean."

Dean grumbled under his breath as he waved his brother off. "This better turn out better than the broxa thing, dude."

Sam laughed, "Why? I left the broxa hunt just fine. You were the one who made out with the ground…"

Dean sent his brother a vulgar hand gesture before closing the door to his own room. Sam snickered and stood up to go to the light switch. Almost immediately, Dean's voice sounded through the wall. _"Where you going?"_

Sam smiled, fully confident Dean would wake him before anything happened. "Dude, relax, I'm going to turn off the light."

Once again, the voice came through. _"Uh-huh…take your knife."_

With a start, Sam looked around for his knife. "Uh, Dean? I think my knife's still in the xoxan."

Sam heard the exasperated sigh through the wall before Dean even opened the door. Sam turned, and Dean threw a knife onto the bed. "Here." He pointed at Sam. "That's my good knife, Sammy. Don't lose that one."

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. "Thanks, man."

Dean nodded and went back into his room as Sam shut off the light. Now in darkness, Sam sighed and turned…smack into a large purple chest.

With a start, Sam looked up and immediately felt the breath vacuumed out of him. Before he could move, the creature wrapped its long arms around him, effectively pinning Sam's arms to his side. He twisted in its grasp as he struggled to breathe.

Behind him, Sam heard a thump, and out of the corner of his eye, saw the bed upturned. Then he heard his brother's voice. "Sam! The light!"

Twisting his hand around, Sam thrust the knife into the xoxan's leg. Immediately, the creature hissed and released its hold. Without waiting to breathe, Sam reached behind him, flicked on the light, and ran toward Dean.

He didn't have to run far; Dean was almost to him when Sam flicked the switch. Dean immediately stepped in front of his brother, gun drawn, as Sam desperately tried to regain his breath. The creature, having realized its life was in jeopardy, left the brothers and hurried back to the bed to flip it down again.

"I don't think so."

Anticipating the creature's actions, Dean ran over to the bed, grabbing the end and pushing it back up. For a few seconds, the two fought over the bed, the creature pulling down and Dean pushing up. The xoxan's skin was now covered in thousands of large blisters, each bubbling and then popping, sending spurts of slime and pus from the now-open wounds.

The creature was becoming more desperate. With a howl of anger, the xoxan suddenly released the bed and leaped toward Dean. With his arms full of bed, Dean was unprepared to defend himself. Behind him, Sam shouted a fear-filled warning, but it was too late… or would have been if the xoxan had actually attacked.

The xoxan brought up its claws in the beginning of a slash that it never carried out. Instead, it just stared at Dean in frustration. Appearing startled by the turn of events, Dean straightened and stood back, a wary expression on his face. He turned and looked at his brother.

Sam's mouth was wide open as he stood partially doubled over in an attempt to catch his breath. Despite his relief and initial surprise that the creature hadn't attacked Dean, he quickly understood the reason. Based on Dean's look, though, Dean didn't. Sam urgently explained it to his brother, between gasps for air. "It can't…hurt you…you didn't…do anything bad…"

Dean's brows drew together in annoyance. "What're you, kidding me? I've been a pain in the ass all week."

Sam shot him a disbelieving look and then jumped back as the melting xoxan lunged at him. The xoxan had also apparently figured out why it couldn't hurt Dean and had decided to go for Sam instead. Before it could get to its target, though, Dean was already there, having repositioned himself between the xoxan and his brother. "You're not touching him again, Barney."

Sam coughed out, "Barney?"

Dean kept his eyes on the oozing monster as he answered his brother, "You know any other big purple creatures filled with evil?"

Sam shook his head while gasping. "Right…Barney."

Seeing Dean over by Sam, the xoxan stopped and turned back toward the bed. Once again, Dean cut it off. The next fifteen seconds were a game of chase. The creature moved toward Sam, Dean blocked it; the creature turned to the bed, Dean blocked it. Xoxans normally had incredibly speed, but the light seemed to have slowed this one down to where Dean could match it. Finally, after the minute-long stand off, the light was too much, and the xoxan ceased its game.

Dean stood next to his now evenly breathing brother and watched as the monster slowly lost its form, melting into a blistering, slimy pile of ooze. The xoxan now defeated, both brothers just stared at the grotesque purple, white, and gray remains that were soaking into the motel carpet.

Finally, Dean spoke. "Glad _you_ checked us in. I wouldn't want that shit under my name…"

Sam gave a half-shrug, still watching the slimy mass. "Actually, 'Robert Delaney' checked us in."

Dean nodded, eyes on the growing puddle surrounding the creature's remains. "Still, it's your face they're gonna associate with this."

Sam grimaced. Dean had a point. He let out a remaining cough. "So…I take it we're leaving?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well, this's been about as much fun as I can stand in one night…unless you still want to sleep in a bed?"

Sam looked over at the upturned bed and made a face. "No, I think I'm good."

Dean gave a nod of approval, stepping back as the puddle on the carpet began to reach his feet. "Great. So, provided the car still works at all, I say we ditch this joint before the owner gets a look at your room and calls the cops for destruction of property."

Sam looked over at the where his blood was still smeared by the door. "Don't forget the mirror and the wall."

Dean made a face before putting the bed flat and heading back to his room. "The mirror, great. Just throw another seven years of bad luck on for me…"

Sam smiled and grabbed his bag, intent of following Dean into his room. Then, suddenly remembering something, he stopped. Grabbing a hanger from the closet, he tiptoed his way through the sopping carpet and over to the wet, slimy mass, wincing as his bare feet squished in the ooze from the dead creature's body. Using the hanger, Sam searched through the disgusting remains.

Toward the bottom of the glop, he found what he was looking for. He grimaced as he pulled the knife handle out, trying to shake off the tendrils of slime that still held the handle to the oozing mass. Once it was freed, Sam stared at the handle that had once belonged to his brother's favorite knife. Unfortunately, it seemed the blade of the knife had met its demise along with the creature. Dean was gonna kill him…again.

"_Sam!"_ Sam cringed, hearing his brother's voice from the other room. _"What the hell you doin' in there? Making out with the thing?"_

Sam looked down at the knife and made a face. Hearing Dean come in through the adjoining door, he turned to face his brother.

Not yet seeing the knife handle, Dean yelled in disgust, "Dude! What the hell are you doing? You trying to bathe in that shit or something?"

Biting his lip, Sam held up the handle for his brother to see.

Immediately, Dean's face went from disgusted to suspicious. "Is…was…" Understanding dawned and Dean's face darkened. "Sam…" Sam flinched at the threatening tone. "…is that my knife?!"

Scrunching his brow in apprehension, Sam cleared his throat and tiptoed his way out of the liquid remains and over to his brother. "Sorry, Dean." He held the knife handle out to give to his brother.

Dean looked at what used to be his favorite knife, now covered with sticky ooze, and with an expression of regret and disgust, stepped back.

Sam shrugged. "If it makes you feel better, it saved my life…"

Still looking disturbed, Dean's eyes left the knife and moved up to his brother. "That's…nice." Then he sighed, obviously recognizing that there was nothing he could do about the damaged weapon. Dean shook his head, looking dejected. "You keep that…I'm…I'll…I'm gonna go see my car."

As Dean turned to leave through his own room, Sam dropped the handle on the floor and wiped his sticky hand on his pants. He'd buy Dean a new knife in the next town, maybe even get it engraved or something. He owed his brother at least that much.

Grabbing his bag and throwing on some shoes, Sam ran out after Dean, catching him just before he got into the car. "Dean?"

Dean threw his bag in the back and then looked over at his brother.

"Your shoulder okay to drive?"

Dean's face grew dark as he glared at his brother. "Number one… you are not touching this car for a long, long time. I don't give a shit if I'm freakin' crippled—I'm still driving. And number two…you're way worse off than me right now, dude."

Sam nodded. Dean was right, given the state of his abdomen, hand, neck, and shoulder: Sam wouldn't have been the better candidate for driver, anyway. Sam sighed as he got into the car. With a grunt, Dean slipped into the driver's seat next to him.

Holding up the keys, Dean took a deep breath and looked over at his brother. Wearing a mask of hope mixed with fear, Sam gave his brother an encouraging smile. Shaking his head, Dean rolled his eyes and started the car. Immediately, the engine purred to life. Sam flopped back into the seat with a relieved sigh.

Dean sat there, listening carefully to the engine, inspecting the sound for any abnormalities. Finally, he nodded his approval and backed the car out onto the road. It seemed to run fine.

Unsure, Sam cautiously looked around before questioning his brother. "It's okay?"

Dean nodded. "You're freakin' lucky. Water probably splashed up into the engine, just needed some time to dry."

Sam smiled, relieved. "Thank God." Then he closed his eyes and listened to the sweet sound of the purring engine as it revved on down the road.

After several minutes of comfortable silence, Dean spoke. "Sammy?"

Sam opened his eyes to look at him, and Dean continued, "I said I couldn't stand you, that I'd be better off without you around. That's why it came." Dean let his eyes leave the road briefly to look over at his brother. "I never meant that, man. I swear. I was just pissed. I didn't mean anything I said. I just needed to let off some steam."

Sam shook his head and sat up straighter. "Dean…you saved my life three times tonight. Hell, you threw yourself between me and that thing without a second thought. Dude, you've taken care of me and had my back my whole life… Actions speak louder than words, man." Seeing that Dean still looked guilty, he added, "I broke your car. You're allowed to be pissed…and you're allowed to curse me out behind my back."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, maybe." Then he looked at Sam again. "But you can bet your ass I'll watch what I say from now on."

Sam smiled as he stared out the passenger window. "Thanks."

Dean just shook his head. "So…it's 3 a.m., we got about three hours before sunrise. I don't know about you, but I've had a hell of a night." Dean pulled the car over into a grove of trees so it was hidden from the view of the road.

Sam laughed. "Hey, Dean? Why don't we just sleep in the car?"

Dean sighed and pulled a pillow out from behind the driver's seat. "Now _that_ is the first good idea you've had all week."

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_The end! Please leave me some feedback and let me know what you thought. I'd LOVE to hear from you!_


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